Son of Syria by Schafer Ben

Author:Schafer, Ben [Schafer, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Saint Adrian Press
Published: 2017-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE shockwave of the blast threw me to the pavement. My head struck the ground an inch or two from the crack that had almost tripped Walid. Between the sunbaked pavement and the heat wave from the explosion, I felt like I was being roasted alive. My ears rang and my vision swam. I also found myself short of breath. The fireball must have sucked up a lot of oxygen in the immediate area. “I’ve got to stop finding myself in this position,” I slurred.

I rolled over onto my back to assess the damage and immediately regretted it. Tiny flecks of stone, cinder block, and wire had been flung into my back. My jacket absorbed the worst of it. None of numerous cuts or bruises were severe enough to warrant attention, but all combined they spread a solid wall of hurt from my lower neck to my waist.

Someone once told me that pain has a great way of reminding a guy that he’s still alive. I was certainly feeling alive right about then.

I rubbed a layer of soot away from my eyes, then pushed myself up off the pavement. When I did, something snapped under my left hand. My vision was still blurry, but when I moved my hand I saw a warped and half-melted pair of aviator sunglasses. I came to the realization that none of these men would feel mortal pain ever again. And it had happened so fast, like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky.

“Omar!” I yelled, or at least tried to yell. My throat was raw. “Omar!”

“Kyle, are you all right?” someone beside me asked. It was a woman’s voice, a sweet voice.

“Azima?” I took a step forward and stumbled.

“Easy, now. That’s right. Omar’s okay. The table flipped over on top of him, but it looks like it shielded him from the worst of it. I’m more worried about you.”

I flashed my most reassuring smile, then felt bile rise in my throat. Combined with the lingering aftertaste of Walid’s terrible tea, it made for a distinctly unpleasant experience for my esophagus. I managed to fight the nausea and tried smiling again. From the look on Azima’s face, it was anything but reassuring.

“The others,” I croaked. “Are any of them . . .” I let the thought trail off as I clamped down on another bout of nausea.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Jamil said. His voice was solemn.

“The blast was intense,” Nadir added. He was standing over Omar, who was just beginning to get to a seated position. “They never stood a chance against firepower of that magnitude.”

“Tank?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Could be. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“We need to get going,” I said. “Army’s still headed this way. I don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

Nadir and Jamil nodded in acknowledgement. Omar wobbled to his feet. “What about survivors?” he implored.

I shook my head. “They’re gone, Omar. We only survived that blast by the thinnest of margins and we were at the very edge of it.

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